Regrets

I wish you knew that it was always about more than the mission, the goals, and the people. I wish you knew that there was so much underneath the surface that you missed and none of us knew it. I wish I’d have seen it sooner, called it out quicker, and fought harder for your survival.

Because you didn’t survive. I made it out, somehow, but you never did. At least, not yet.

I’ve got so many regrets that I have to put them in categories. There’s a song that I really like because of the instrumentals, but the message of the song is something I don’t resonate with. I wish I did, but I don’t know what it’s like to honestly believe that you’d make every choice you’ve ever made over again, if you had the chance. I wouldn’t. Even some of the biggest, defining choices of my life, I’d do differently if I knew how it was going to turn out. That’s not to say that I think different choices would yield different results. As like as not, I’d end up in the same dead end of my life that I’m trapped in now, but at least the scenery would be different. The grass always seems greener, you know?

I have regrets about my childhood, regrets about parenting, regrets about my marriage, regrets in friendship, and regrets in regards to the career choices I’ve made. I’ve got regrets about how I pursued my education and the homes I’ve bought. I regret some clothing choices and even money spent on myself. If you can name it, I’ve probably got regrets about it.

Some of this is just the way I’ve turned out, after years of people sowing doubt in my mind about who I am and what my life is about. The result is that I doubt every single choice I make and doubt whether or not I’m in the right place. I honestly attribute most of the suffering in my life to myself, even though several people have abused and mistreated me. I’m so messed up that I still think it’s all my fault. Thus, all the regrets.

While I have hundreds of regrets, the biggest ones run around in my mind, over and over again. As I was shoved out of my career in ministry, I received many kind words of encouragement from all the friends that I’ve made over the years. Former and current students were incredibly kind to me and thanked me for all the hard work that I put in on their behalf. They’d say that I did a pretty good job at my job. Whether or not they’re right is still to be seen, however, my biggest regrets are in the ministry category. There are so many things that I wish I’d done differently.

And, no, it’s not some silly pipe dream of a goal that I had. It’s not some promotion that was literally never going to come. I wish, as I said at the beginning of this post, that I had fought harder for the survival of some of my friends. I’m not talking about literal survival, they’re all still alive, as far as I know. Many of them are thriving. I’m talking about their survival as followers of Jesus. Because, the truth is that it’s really easy to get caught up in a cause, but miss the whole point of the thing.

I’ve written before about falling in love with a community of Jesus followers and never really encountering Jesus. This idea is coming around to me again as I consider things that I wish I’d done better or differently during my time in Radford. Perhaps it’s because the years are carrying on and I’m really seeing how my friends are faring out there in the world. Many of you seem quite happy. I hope that you are. But many of you seem quite happy without Jesus and I’m wondering what’s going on. How did we get here? Where did I fail you? What did I miss?

In some measure, I’m just blaming myself for other people’s choices. I’m not responsible for anyone else, after all. But I cannot help but wonder and cannot help but regret any part that I had to play in the potentially counterfeit faith you once professed. Because, early on, I was very invested in people joining the mission of Young Life and becoming part of the community. These were the years before I really realized that big numbers did not equate lasting growth or spiritual health. I thought that, if I was successful and did everything right, then people would show up. We’d have hundreds of people at Young Life College events. Spoiler: we never did, so I’m a failure in that way, at least. I regret the times that I focused on a production and “excellence” to the detriment of my team or to the point where I was mean to those around me because I was so overworked and burnt out.

I regret buying into the bad theology being pumped out of the pulpit at church that taught folks to run themselves ragged because that’s what God wanted. We were called to be servants, after all. No mention of rest or Sabbath or Jesus having completed the work on the cross for us at all. Just do more, try harder, and be “softer” (that was a specific and personal one that I got all the time). There was some lip service given to these ideas, but they were overwhelmingly NOT practiced and it was obvious. I regret passing on that theology of burn out to my friends and not paying attention to their souls.

Early on, in my work at Radford University, I was focused on building a program rather than building disciples. That’s not to say that I didn’t spend time in discipleship and personal formation of my students. I did. Quite a bit. But I wasn’t focused on their personal growth more than anything else. And because of that, I fear that I missed the indicators of shallow faith or faith centered on something other than Jesus. And, because I missed it, I didn’t call it out. And, because I didn’t call it out, that faith fell apart.

Again, I’m not taking all the blame for this. People are responsible for their own decisions and it’s not my job to usher anyone into the Kingdom of God. That’s Holy Spirit. But. When I’m really honest and really able to evaluate how I did my job, I deeply regret not seeing faith centered on community or service or Young Life or literally anything but Jesus.

I so deeply regret this because it’s the reason that so many people have crises of faith. When life gets hard, when we launch out into the real world, when we have to leave the community/service/group that our faith was centered on, what will we do? Will we stand or will we fall? Is a faith centered on anything other than Jesus really a faith worth having?

No. It’s not. Jesus himself told us as much.

In Matthew 7, at the very end of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells a story. He talks about two men and intentionally juxtaposes their lifestyles and choices. One man, he says, goes out to build a house on a sand dune. Another, builds his house on a rock. Then, the Teacher tells us, a really bad storm blows up. It’s windy, rainy, and probably full of hail - the worst storm you’ve ever seen. And, as you probably can guess, the house on the sand crashes to the ground while the house on the rock withstands the storm.

Jesus doesn’t ask this question (if you read the account of his words in Matthew 7, he actually tells you what’s going on before he starts), but I will: why do you think that is? There are some practical, scientific reasons for the houses falling, sure, but that’s not what I or Jesus is getting at. This is a parable, a teaching tale. It’s a metaphor for our lives. The houses are our lives or, more specifically for my purposes here, our lives of faith. For the sake of argument, let’s say that both houses are built with the exact same equipment and materials. Both men even hired the same builder. So, until the storm comes, everything looks great on both of them. It’s only when the strength of the foundations are tested that we start to see the difference between the houses.

What Jesus is saying is that you can look all fine on the outside. You can memorize all the Scriptures, know all the songs, go to all the events, give money to the poor, have a quiet time, serve at your church, do street evangelism, whatever, but it doesn’t matter. When the storm comes, when your life gets hard, then we’ll see what you’re really basing it on - the words and  person of Jesus, or something else. When you get bad medical news, when you lose your job, when the people of God are mean to you and cast you out, when you’re abused by those who should know better, when your grandmother dies, when your friend is shot, when you get old, when your kid won’t listen to you, when your spouse doesn’t care, and when anything unexpected or shocking comes your way, will the house of your faith stand or will it fall?

If it’s built on anything other than Jesus, it’s built on sand and it will come crashing to the ground. How many people do you know that this has happened to? How many friends and loved ones do you have that are deconstructing their faith (for good reason!!)? They’re deconstructing a faith that was based on anything but what it was supposed to be based on. They’re deconstructing whole churches and denominations that taught them and led them to build their lives of faith on the shifting sands of behavior modification and intellectual assent to the right ideas rather than Christ himself.

It’s Jesus or nothing. There are no other rocks upon which to construct your life of faith. Meaning: everything else is sand.

I’ve long known this to be true and it’s the only reason that I’m not out here disavowing the existence of God. If you’re here, reading my blog, and you have doubts about God or the nature of your Christianity, I want you to know that I’ve been there, too. I want you to know that some of the things that have happened to you have happened to me too. The reasons that you hate Christians and don’t trust pastors are the same reasons that I put certain versions of Christianity on full blast, unapologetically. I’ve spoken up and railed against the abuse that you’ve suffered. I’ve criticized the misogyny and idolatry of marriage and children rampant within the church. I’ve called leaders to account and used the Holy Scriptures to help them see. But, like you, I was discredited, abused, passed over, and, ultimately, cast out.

I don’t belong there either.

But, I’m still here. And by “here”, I mean in the Kingdom of God, not a particular church or denomination.

Why? Because the house of my life of faith wasn’t built on mere doctrine and lifestyle. When I signed up to follow Jesus, it wasn’t so that I could look like everyone else or join some club. I encountered the living God and I built my house on him.

When the storms of life have hit me - job loss, spiritual abuse, neglect, taken advantage of, undervalued, discredited, gossipped about, gaslighted, slandered, cast out - my house has stood. Not because the storms were weak. Those things that I listed have all happened to me and more. The pain and the struggle have been so very real. The house has stood in spite of the strength of the storms because the rock was solid. I didn’t build my life on a cause or an ideal or even an identity I hoped to achieve. I built my life on and around the words and person of Jesus and I got to know him for myself, not relying solely on the words and ideas of someone else to explain him to me.

If you’re here and you don’t believe in God anymore or if you think Christianity is a sham, those thoughts and beliefs are valid. You’ve got good reasons to feel and think the way that you do. But, before you give up on it entirely, I’d implore you to consider whether the faith that you’re disavowing and deconstructing and leaving behind was ever about Jesus at all. Are you sure that it’s him and his words that you have a problem with? Or is it something else?

I’m saying this now because I’ll regret it if I don’t. If I never said this to you before, I’m sorry. Hear me now and don’t give up hope.